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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265178">she was only ever dreaming.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeluvd/pseuds/beeluvd'>beeluvd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, Dangan Ronpa Spoilers, Death, F/M, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Super Dangan Ronpa 2 Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:48:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,355</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26265178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeluvd/pseuds/beeluvd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She never wakes up.</p><p>(He hopes she is dreaming of him.)</p><p> </p><p>In which Peko succumbs to her coma and Fuyuhiko says his goodbyes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>she was only ever dreaming.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>[I am so emotionally invested in this relationship so naturally I had to break my own heart.]</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She wasn’t going to wake up.</p><p>The doctors told him 2 weeks ago. After months of waiting, tired nights sitting next to her pod, desperately wanting to hold her hand through the green glass. Months of crying, of writing her letters that she would never read, of talking to his therapist like the others had urged him to do. After all these months, she was just wasting away.</p><p> </p><p>No, that was wrong.</p><p> </p><p>She was never wasting away. She was only ever dreaming.</p><p> </p><p>Or he hoped so, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He hoped that she was dreaming. Of sunflower fields and snowy white winters and cloudless blue skies. Of soft bunny rabbits and newborn puppies and panda cubs that nuzzled her cheek. Of quiet, pattering rain. Of endless sunshine. Of bright green meadows dotted with flowers and of sunsets as bright and vibrant as her eyes. Of him, maybe, even if it was selfish. Of being human.</p><p> </p><p>Even if she was not awake, even if she would never wake, she was still human.</p><p>She had always been human, even if she could never have seen that for herself.</p><p> </p><p>He stood alone in his cottage, staring out the window at the cloudy sea. It was a rather gloomy day. ‘<em>Fitting</em>,’ he thought glumly as he mindlessly fiddled with the ends of the long, already-frayed sleeves of his sweater. He looked down at his fingernails, chewed down and bitten. He smiled softly. She would have chastised him for falling back into that old habit she had worked so hard at to get him to break. Thoughts of her sternly but kindly scolding him every time he brought his fingers up to his mouth swam in his mind, reminding him just how much she cared for him, down to the smallest detail. He always wished he could have done the same.</p><p>A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, abruptly ranking his chain back to reality.</p><p>A woman in white scrubs stuck her head into his room. He had always kept the door unlocked. He had always kept it accessible, desperately hoping for the day someone in those white scrubs would fling it open, eyes bright and heart pounding. He had always imagined they would only ever be bringers of good news, of high hopes and rekindled spirits. He had always thought they would be the ones to bring back the last source of happiness into his life, that those donning those white scrubs would be his savior, his messiah.</p><p>Who would’ve thought they’d be the last people he’d want to see right now.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re ready for you.”</p><p> </p><p>(How he had hoped that on the day he heard those words, they would’ve meant something different.)</p><p> </p><p>He nodded sullenly, picking his jacket up off his bed. Despite being polyester, it felt like lead in his hands. He had never wanted to stay in his room so badly before.</p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, he stepped towards the door.</p><p> </p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p>She lay, still, on a white hospital bed, an IV attached to her deathly pale arm. He inhaled sharply. If she had been awake, he knew she would have hated it. She never liked being restricted, never liked feeling weak. A heart monitor beeped idly every few seconds, but those seconds were far too drawn out and he knew that she wouldn’t be here for long. A white hospital blanket was pulled up to her stomach, her arms laid out limp in front of her. Her chest was barely moving, clinging to the last thread of life that her dying heart had to offer. His own broke in two at the sight of her.</p><p> </p><p>She could have been sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>Silver hair matted around the frame of her face in clumps, strands of it sticking to her cheeks and forehead, other parts of it tangled and teased up at odd angles as if defying gravity. Her eyes stayed closed, blue veins prominent in the almost translucent skin spread across them. Every part of her was thin, her figure emaciated and muscles atrophied from laying in her pod for months on end. Her fingers that once held and brandished swords feared by hundreds of thousands were whittled down to just bone. He could individually count the joints and knuckles sticking out, eminent beneath her weak, stretched skin.</p><p> </p><p>Even now, she still looked beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll let you say your goodbyes,” the nurse said in a polite, low voice. He could tell it masked pain and pity.</p><p>He knelt down on both knees at the silver haired woman’s bedside. “Hey,” he whispered softly. He inhaled again, his breath shaky. He still didn’t know where to begin, so he started rambling without thinking. His heart knew they only had so much time left together. “You’re going to be alright. Wherever you go. You’re going to be okay. You...you always were okay, somehow. You always ended up okay.”</p><p>He swallowed, trying to contain himself. He knew he would eventually fail to keep his composure, but he wanted to keep up the facade for a little while longer. Slowly and carefully, as though not to disturb her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stuffed animal—only about the size of his hand. A small black cat with bright green eyes. It wasn’t much, and it was flimsy at best, but he knew she would have loved it, even if she wasn’t able to show it. “I um...got you this at the supermarket. It’s not much but...” he looked back at the cat, his face flushing. “I wanted to get you something before you...before you had to go.” He said, trying his best to keep his voice stable. He placed the small cat slightly above her stomach, resting it below her sternum. He knew her eyes would have lit up like diamonds. Instead, the tiny plushie rose and fell with her shallow breathing. Her eyes stayed closed.</p><p> </p><p>She could have almost been sleeping.</p><p> </p><p>“I...I wish you were awake so I could tell you all of this in person.” He said, barely at a whisper. “That’s the simplest way to put it...I wish you were awake. I know we’re way past that now but...I wish things could have been different.”</p><p> </p><p>He saw a wet spot appear on her blanket. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying.</p><p> </p><p>“Heh...look at me...crying for you. Just like I cried for you after you...” He swallowed once more, keeping his poise together with great difficulty. “I’ve cried for you so, so much. I can’t remember the last time I cried this much. After we got out I just couldn’t stop.” He reached out for her hand, hesitating. Almost as though he was waiting for her to signal that it was okay.</p><p> </p><p>He realized that wasn’t going to happen.</p><p> </p><p>The spot on the blanket grew darker.</p><p> </p><p>Gingerly, he took her hand, stark white and bony. Immediately he was alarmed by how cold it was. He instinctively began warming it up, wrapping it in his own two hands. “I hope you know...I hope you’ve always known, that I...” He found that even faced with imminent death, his words failed him. But this was the last time he would ever be able to speak to her in person (if you could even really call it speaking). So, he pushed onward, his tone as unsteady as ever. “I...love you. I always have. And I always will.” Tears were flowing freely now. His voice wavered. “I loved you then and I still love you now.” The wall inside him that he knew would inevitably fall, crumbled. He let out a sob. “It should have been me. It should have always been me.”</p><p> </p><p>The spot on the blanket grew even darker, larger.</p><p> </p><p>“There was so much left to do. There was still so much I wanted to do with...with you. There was so much I still wanted to say. But now...” A sound resembling a whimper caught in his throat. “Here I am, saying goodbye. And I won’t even get to let you how much I love you. To get you to...understand, I mean really understand, that I’ve always loved you.” These words suddenly flew out of his mouth effortlessly, unrehearsed, like his mouth already knew what his heart wanted to say this whole time.</p><p>The small black cat, still rising and falling with the unsteady rhythm of her failing breaths, stared at him, as if urging him on.</p><p> </p><p>The heart monitor began to slow down, doling out lazy, methodical beeps, practically teasing him that time was almost up.</p><p>Each beep felt like a knife in his heart.</p><p> </p><p>He thought of the swords in her back.</p><p> </p><p>(He hoped she wasn’t in pain.)</p><p> </p><p>“Th-the last time you got to see me was when you...” He swallowed, again, this time his words betraying him. “I lived. You gave me that second chance at life. It was all thanks to you.” He looked down at their hands, interlocked and now hot from the warmth emanating from his palms curled around hers. “I wish I could do the same for you. I would do it in a heartbeat.” His last sentence was barely audible, his voice low and wobbly and thick with tears.</p><p> </p><p>The heart monitor beeped again, a warning sign.</p><p> </p><p>“I hope...heh...and I know this is selfish...but...” he blushed, looking away and blinking away the wetness in his eyes. “I hope you dream of me. I hope...I hope that, even if you can’t be here, I can see you in your dreams. And I hope...that I can make you happy there. The way that you always deserved.”</p><p> </p><p>His breath hitched in his throat. The heart monitor slowed. The clock ticked.</p><p> </p><p>The stuffed black cat’s already erratic movement lessened.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Hope is a funny thing,” he mumbled, squeezing her hands just a little bit tighter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He managed a small, sad smile as he watched what he knew would be her last breaths. Though every moment destroyed him, he knew she wouldn’t be in pain anymore. Although he felt like every inch of him was being torn apart watching her go, he realized that after the life she had lived—after all of the fighting and the killing and the guarding that he never really wanted—he knew that she deserved all the rest in the world.</p><p>He lifted her hand, still hot from being enveloped in his own, up to his lips, kissing her knuckles that had accumulated scars over the years of protecting him—protecting him from his enemies, from himself, from his mistakes. He leaned forward, shaking, and planted a long kiss on her pale forehead, being sure not to knock over the small cat plushie still gently moving with the barely-there rising and falling her lungs.</p><p>“Wherever you’re going. I know you’ll end up okay. And...and when I’m ready, I’ll see you there. I’m going to live this life that you gave me another chance at because...” He took a deep, trembling breath, attempting to regain some composure. “I know it’s what you would have wanted."</p><p> </p><p>He could feel her soul fading.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Wherever you’re going, I’ll meet you there.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His lip trembled. He knew these were her final moments. Her breathing slowed. He carefully stuck his right hand underneath her nose and realized he could hardly feel her breath exhaling out of her nostrils. Tenderly, he brushed her silver locks away from her face. He knew she would have appreciated that.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait for me.” He whispered.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, he knows she heard him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>‘<em>This is it</em>,’ he thought to himself. This was the moment he would lose the girl that he always lived for, the only girl he had ever loved and the only girl he will ever love. He wishes he could’ve had more time. He wishes he hadn’t pushed her away. He wishes he had told her that he loved her sooner, before that stupid bear dragged her off to her death that she only got into because of his dumb, selfish actions. He wishes so many things, but those things don’t matter anymore.</p><p>He will live for her, now. It will be hard, but he knows it’s what she would have wanted. He knows she will watch over him always.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Somehow, or maybe he’s just imagining it, but he knows she loves him too.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(He squeezes her hand one last time.)</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Peko Pekoyama. I always will.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He is met with the flatline of the heart monitor and a soft knock at the door.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(The black cat plushie stops moving.)</p><p> </p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p>Later that night, all he could do was stand, legs stiff and numb, and watch helplessly as they draped a sheet cartoonishly over her lifeless body. The off-white cloth was laid out smoothly on top of her, her unmoving moving figure poking out almost comically from beneath the sheet, as if he was witnessing some sort of sick magic trick; he half expected her to start hovering a foot off the ground, imagining the sheet trailing off her body like a ghost.</p><p>But she didn’t float.</p><p>She didn’t move.</p><p>She never moved.</p><p>Never again.</p><p> </p><p>He clutches the cat toy in his hand.</p><p> </p><p>He remembers her hands were warm.</p><p> </p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p>That night, he dreams of a meadow dotted with flowers, the silhouette of a hill halfway illuminated by the horizon that spills gold across the field. A young girl with hair like moonbeams and eyes like rubies runs to him from the top of the grassy green slope, arms outstretched, eyes glowing brighter than the sunset that ripples along the pasture. Her ringing laughter that he so hardly got to hear in their lifetime together finds a home within his ears. He looks down at his small hands and realizes he is 6 years old again, before she became a tool, before he lost her to his own life, before the killing game, before death mercilessly swallowed her whole.</p><p> </p><p>He opens his arms for her.</p><p> </p><p>•••</p><p> </p><p>Years later, on the thirtieth of June, Fuyuhiko visits Peko’s grave.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He leaves a new stuffed animal for her every time.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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